Black Cloaks
by EmmelineVance713
Summary: Seamus receives a phone call shortly after his wedding that changes his life. Terrible summaries here, written for IWSC Round 6.


A/N

School: Mahoutokoro

Year: 6

Round 6 Theme: Avada Kedavra

Word Count: 1542

Prompts: (Main) [Event] Funeral; (Secondary) [Dialogue] "I'm your wife, I'm the greatest good you'll ever have."

The story's main setting is a funeral, and a young, tumultuous romance is a heavy player in this fic.

I think I might've forgotten how to write anything quality, so sorry in advance. This is pretty bad, kind of thrown together and terrible plot-wise, but I usually hate all of my fics, so let's hope the people reading this don't!

* * *

The phone call arrived in the evening, several minutes after supper. The man crumpled to the floor with the telephone dangling from his fingers, running a calloused hand through sandy hair. Silent sobs racked his body, the individual on the other end of the line eventually hanging up as he ceased to respond. Parvati and her footsteps, light as a panther's, crept into the room only to see her husband's face, twisted with anguish.

"He's-he's gone," he choked out, struggling to push himself off the ground and leaning on the wall for support. "Dean." Tears springing to her eyes, the Indian woman enfolded Seamus in her arms, letting him cry mutely into her shoulder. They were forty-two years old, and Dean Thomas was dead. Gone.

* * *

"My son was a brave man," the stately woman standing next to the coffin proclaimed. "He wasn't afraid to stand up in the face of adversary, be it Death Eaters or a pesky boss at work." This elicited a small chuckle from the audience, the wizards and witches from Dean's year at Hogwarts and his immediate family. "But most of all, he was kind, and loving, and encompassed the best qualities a friend, child or partner could have. We're here because we love Dean...we loved Dean." She broke down into sniffles and sobs, burying her face in a black handkerchief.

Seamus, sitting in the second row, clung to his wife's hand like a lifeboat. It had been two weeks since he discovered that his best friend, one of the few people he cherished most in life, had passed away in a car crash. He had been driving home from a soccer game, about to call Seamus after their win. A driver swerved, a light flashed, a tire skidded, and a life ended. Dry eyes were nonexistent as black cloaks rustled within the pews of the church. Mrs. Thomas, with the help of a step-daughter, used her cane to maneuver back to her seat in the front row, clutching the gardenias that had rested in her seat.

"Seamus, love," Parvati whispered, breaking the silence with a tender voice. "You need to speak." He had agreed to deliver a tribute of sorts to the boy who had helped him through school, through romance, through life until this point. He had so much to say about Dean Thomas. But he couldn't bring himself to stand, to share. The pain was too great, the wound too fresh.

"I-I can't." Seamus abruptly stood up, not requesting passage before shoving past Parvati and down the aisle. Whispers erupted throughout the rows of wizarding people, Harry and Ginny shushing their children, Padma worriedly glancing at her shocked sister. The twins exchanged an intense stare, and they both nodded with damp eyes and morose smiles. Swishing her self-designed black cloak around her ankles, Parvati followed her husband with a heavy heart telling her that it might not even be worth it.

* * *

She discovered him perched on the edge of a bench in the church lobby, head in his hands along with a wallet-sized picture of him and Dean in sixth year. Fat, pearly tears rolled down his cheeks as he gazed upon his best friend's face, unmarred by life, age, and death.

"Do you want to talk?" Parvati murmured tentatively, resting a slim hand on his shoulder? He shook his head subtly, his mouth opening slightly but words not escaping. "Do you need to talk?" She asked, not sure whether it was for his benefit or her own.

"How can I go up there and talk about it?" Words finally succeeded in escaping his lips, cracked and raw and emotional. "He's gone, Parvati. He's dead and gone and not coming back, and I'm expected to talk about it like I'm alright with it?" Seamus' voice cracked, weary and anguished as he gazed at his wife. He expected love, a comforting kiss, but was returned with steely dark eyes.

"How do you think I feel?" She assertively delivered, gathering her robes to sit on the edge of the bench. "I lost my best friend too if you'll remember. Lavender meant the world to me, and I couldn't function knowing she wasn't in my life. And you, you weren't even there for me then. Did you stop to think that you have me, and I can help you through this?" Parvati drew a hand to her cheek, wiping away a streak of tears that was making its way down her painted face. "I'm your wife, I'm the greatest good you'll ever have. You said that in your vows. You said you'd let me inside your shell and be there for you, so let me. Do I even matter to you as much as Dean?"

Tearfully, Seamus nodded and sank into her arms. Whispered exchanges of love were the only sounds they made as they cried together. The distraught couple remained there on the narrow stone bench outside of the service, engulfed in each other as the minutes ticked on and neither recognized the courage to stand and return to reality. Parvati tentatively untangled herself and offered a shaking hand to her husband. He gratefully took it, and, leaning on each other, they made their procession back into the funeral hall. All eyes were upon them, and the muffled whispers among the crowd ceased.

"I'd like to say a few words about my best man, my roommate, my true friend Dean Thomas," Seamus stammered as he strode up the aisle, reaching a stance next to the coffin his friend lay in. "Dean was everything I wasn't. He was calm, compassionate, brave, and not afraid to do what he knew was right. Whenever I was cowardly or unsympathetic, he'd slap some sense into me. Sometimes, he'd actually slap the sense into me." This ignited a small giggle throughout the dejected wizards.

"Dean was talented in so many ways, you have no idea. He was an amazing artist, a great dueller, but not as good a football player as he liked to claim. Evidently, he was also good at getting himself into situations and scrapes. He wouldn't back down from challenges, but he wasn't a bull-headed, stubborn osk like me. I loved Dean so much, I still do, I mean, he was my best friend. We all loved Dean, whether as a former flame, a friend, a son or brother or lover. It's hard to digest that he's actually gone" His voice broke on the last few words, and he had to take an infinite moment to regain his composure.

"This may sound selfish, but I know I'm not the only one." New confidence had entered his voice, strong where previously shaken. "It's not going to be easy getting over this, and many of us won't. But we can't close ourselves off," he glanced at Parvati, who had forgotten all self-imposed decorum and was dabbing at her eyes with a lacy sleeve. "We have to focus on the good and great things, not the darkness in between. I couldn't even think about getting past this without my family, my friends, my beautiful wife. So, I guess I'll stop my incessant rambling now and just get on with it. I miss Dean. I miss him for everything he did for me and everything he never got to do. But we'll try to get through it together."

Harry and Ron, sitting together in the third row of church benches, began to clap softly, starting a group movement as Seamus paced down the aisle to find a seat next to Parvati. She clasped his hand in hers, gently rubbing his fingers as they waited for their turn to lay their flowers upon the sleek wooden coffin.

"So I'm a good and great thing, huh?" She teased, leaning into him and resting her raven locks on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Parvati. Some honeymoon this is," he muttered with a smirk, referencing their wedding only one month before. Somehow, a little joy was seeping through the cracks of despair and grief. The rest of their row slowly stood to gather their flora and the newlyweds grabbed their gardenias. In the slow procession of wizards and witches and knowledgeable Muggles, Seamus and his wife passed the Weasleys, Neville and Hannah, and countless other people from Dean's too short life.

"It's alright because I get to spend it with you and all the people we love," she frowned, furrowing a lovely brow. "I miss him too, you know. It's hard to move on, hard to get past a loss like this. When Lavender died, I was a wreck, and I basically shut myself off from everyone we knew. But I got past it, and if I hadn't, we wouldn't be here today." The two reached the end of the aisle, finally in front of the dark box Dean lay in. Seamus knelt down and placed their white bouquet at the base of the wood.

It was a goodbye, a parting with the loss and negativity and despair of Dean's death. But as Seamus reached for his wife's hand, the farewell felt like a lifted burden, a ticket to move on, and a chance to focus on the good he had. The good he would always have.


End file.
